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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28876578">Compromised</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lhugy_for_short/pseuds/Lhugy_for_short'>Lhugy_for_short</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(As the Father), Assassin AU, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gladio is naked for half of the story, Lovers to enemies to lovers, M/M, You're Welcome, also smut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:21:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,686</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28876578</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lhugy_for_short/pseuds/Lhugy_for_short</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Unit Code: 05953234. Known to some by the alias 'Argentum, Prompto.' </i>
</p>
<p>  <i>Class: Spy. Informant. Trained assassin. </i></p>
<p>  <i>Current status: Fugitive. Assumed compromised. </i></p>
<p>  <i></i><br/><b>Marked for termination.</b><br/></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>58</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Compromised</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy happy birthday to AikyoSilver~!! I hope this scratches your itch for some assassin!promptio action!</p>
<p>Disclaimer: The background for this story is loosely based on Assassin's Creed lore, but I don't know the series well enough to do it proper justice. Any resemblances are mostly coincidental and probably unrelated. Except for the Leap of Faith! That is pure AC physics, don't ask me how anyone is supposed to actually survive.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>"Mission failure. Unit compromised." </em> </p>
<p>The words that glared on his phone screen filled him with cold-blooded fear. <em> Compromised </em> . In his line of work, that was just another term for dead - or worse, <em> a traitor. </em>It meant he no longer had the protection of the organization, and that when they found him (and they would; they were very good at their jobs) he would be marked for termination on sight. </p>
<p>Suddenly, Prompto found himself utterly, dangerously alone, a wanted man on the run from the closest thing he'd ever had to a family. He couldn't stay here - he couldn't stay <em> anywhere </em>. Survival was the game now. And the clock was already ticking.</p>
<p>How in all the seven hells had it come to this?</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Never in his life had Prompto Argentum considered turning down a mission. Especially not one handed to him by the Father himself, a stern man otherwise known only as <em> VB </em>. </p>
<p>Few had been privileged enough to meet the Father. The system usually kept favoritism out of the equation, making sure tasks were assigned randomly and all soldiers remained equally expendable. Cold efficiency was simply the Order's way. So when Prompto was summoned, by unit number, to the Labs, he knew immediately this would be no ordinary mission. </p>
<p>"I will keep this brief," the Father said by way of greeting, as Prompto found himself ushered towards a large, unoccupied desk. He couldn't locate the source of the voice, so he focused his gaze obediently on an open file that had been laid out before him. "We have an assignment for you, 05953234." </p>
<p>"Yes, sir?" </p>
<p>"The man in the photographs is a former agent. Years ago, he was sent to infiltrate the Lucian Kingsglaive, but we have lost contact of late. Sources indicate he's gone rogue." </p>
<p>Prompto lifted a picture from the desk. It was blurry, taken hastily at an awkward angle, but he could make out the man's features well enough: hard eyes, a close shaven beard, dark hair cropped short, military style. Beneath his face, his birth and code names scrawled in messy ink. <em> Drautos, Titus AKA Glauca. </em>Prompto had never heard of the man, but he certainly didn't look like the traitor type to him.</p>
<p>"What does the Empire want done with him?" he asked, knowing any other questions would be out of line. Prompto could guess, of course, that a rogue agent would need to be tailed, investigated and, if he appeared to pose a threat to the organization, ultimately eliminated. But he kept these assumptions to himself for now. After all, they hadn't exactly trained him to think. </p>
<p>"Glauca was one of our best, and as such he's a risk to leave unchecked. We have already Marked him," the Father answered, surprising Prompto with the sentencing. "You have been picked to terminate him." </p>
<p>Despite the nerves rising like a sickness in his throat, Prompto managed to hold his voice steady. "…Why me, sir?" </p>
<p>"We thought that would be obvious." </p>
<p>It wasn't. Not at first. The Father paused, giving Prompto time to puzzle together the pieces in his head. Assassinations were usually easy jobs, and he'd shown promise in previous missions. Yet this was no ordinary target - this was a fellow agent, traitor or not, which meant it would take a highly skilled professional to kill him. Prompto hardly qualified as a full-fledged assassin yet. </p>
<p>That left only one other clue: <em> Kingsglaive. </em>The Father has said it himself. Although they operated all over the Lucian continent, this particular target was very likely located in the Crown City of Insomnia. </p>
<p>A city Prompto unfortunately knew all too well….</p>
<p>"You have a history in Insomnia, an established alias there. Use your connections in the Citadel to get close to Glauca quickly. This needs to be handled within the month." </p>
<p>"S-sir," Prompto started. His voice cracked, and he clenched his fists at his side to hide the way his hands suddenly trembled. "I, um. Are you certain it's wise to send me back there? What if they remember me?" </p>
<p>"We're counting on that," Father answered curtly. </p>
<p>Prompto swallowed again. "Y-yes, but, well. There are those who…might be suspicious. Loose ends that could interfere with the mission. I think it'd be better to--" </p>
<p>A booming <em> thud, </em>like a large hand being slammed on a desk in some distant office, cut him off sharply. He froze, squeezing his eyes shut, for the blow he expected to come. </p>
<p>"You question the decisions of the Order? You think you know better than us? We command, you follow!" Again the voice paused. Gave him time to consider his position carefully before returning in a more emotionless tone. "A transport ship will take you as far as Leide. From there, your assignment is your own. Eliminate Glauca, and eliminate anyone else who gets in your way. For Niflheim!" </p>
<p>"F-for the Empire," Prompto, heart sinking, answered to the empty room. </p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Two years had passed, but the city of Insomnia remained wholly unchanged. </p>
<p>From a distance, anyway. Prompto stared out of the passenger window of the truck - the mechanic at the garage outside of town had been gracious enough to offer him a ride in exchange for, quote, <em> 'A lil' help unloadin' these spare parts at the scrapyard' </em> - and frowned. Once inside the Walls, it had begun to hit him just how much this felt like coming home. After all, he was supposed to have grown up here, an orphan adopted by a busy family, shy and easily dismissed as a child but ever a constant shadow in Prince Noctis' life. He'd told the story so many times even <em> he'd </em>begun to believe it after a while. </p>
<p>What could he say? His kind were raised to live in hiding behind a shroud of lies. </p>
<p>But his first mission here had been a supporting role; gather intel, report to Father directly, let others do the real dirty work. When people around the young prince had started going missing (his attendants, members of the Crownguard), Prompto had been blameless - though not without guilt. Because despite his work, it had been impossible not to come to see Noctis as a true friend instead of simply part of a script. </p>
<p>And the prince hadn't been the only one Prompto had grown…close with. There'd been a guy. A friend of Noct's, who despite initial misgivings had fallen for Prompto as hard as Prompto had fallen for him. Not, of course, that they could've ever worked or anything. Not when one was a trained assassin, and the other was a--  </p>
<p>"Y'all reckon this is far enough, hun?" Invading his heavy thoughts like a knife slicing through water, the driver's voice pulled Prompto back to the moment. He turned to her as if just remembering her presence, and offered a thin smile. </p>
<p>"Uh. Did you say something?" </p>
<p>The woman's eyes twinkled when she smiled. "Talk about head in the clouds. I asked if y'all're ready to climb on out. Think you can find yer way home from here?" </p>
<p>He risked another glance out the window. Most of Insomnia shared the same grey, urban backdrop, and whatever street they had stopped on now was no exception. Prompto didn't think he recognized the neighborhood, but the buildings were low enough to make out the fairly distant shape of the Citadel - the Lucian family palace - rising up out of the heart of the city. <em> That </em> was his destination. Cindy had brought him far enough. </p>
<p>"Yeah, this is perfect. Thanks. Um," he smiled shyly, patting the pockets of his vest. "How much do I owe you?" </p>
<p>Predictably, the soft-hearted mechanic merely swatted him on the shoulder. "Don't mention it, hun. I just hope y'can find that lost grandmother of yers. Y'all swing by the garage anytime you need somethin' fixed, y'hear?" </p>
<p>"Sure, Miss Cindy. Thanks again." Swinging the wide door open, Prompto hopped down from the bucket seat with his unassuming duffel bag in tow. Every step forward took him further away from the kind mechanic and her truck, and with the distance he let the tangle of lies he'd spun unravel behind him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>As far back as the history books went, the Order’s roots had extended through every corner of Eos. A network of names, bloodlines, <em> fortunes </em>connecting civilizations past and present since long before Solheim fell. Even Niflheim, and the Empire Aldercapt had grown from its foundations, was a mere blip on the timeline of the greater Order - and thus one so small as Prompto couldn’t even begin to understand its inner workings. </p>
<p>Yet, even to him, this plan felt like walking into a complete failure. </p>
<p>Sure, maybe he'd once posed as a Lucian citizen and miraculously befriended a prince. But that had been two years ago, and he hadn't exactly left on the best terms. In fact, he hadn't left on any terms at all - he'd simply disappeared without a trace, a clean cut from all ties he'd made here. People didn't normally come back from that. It was like coming back from the dead, trying to step into an old life and somehow expecting nothing to have changed, no one to have moved on. </p>
<p>But hey, Prompto mused, if only to distract himself from the inevitable task ahead. At least his old ID card still worked. </p>
<p>The Citadel gates opened for him, giving way to the courtyard and the main palace entrance at the top of the stairs. The front doors were always an option, of course, but like any other mission, Prompto thought it best to scout around first, remind himself of the layout and (most importantly) the locations of every possible exit. Plus, if he got lucky, a higher vantage point might lead him to Drautos without him needing to even show his face. </p>
<p>Cutting right past the gate, he bypassed the stairs entirely in favor of an alcove around the side of the main facade. Prompto dropped his duffel bag to the ground. Zipped it open almost silently, and withdrew a pair of skin tight gripped gloves, a small knife concealed in a sheath to be worn on the wrist, and his favorite pair of earbuds. Hitting play, he let the rapid tempo and heavy bass fuel his adrenaline for the climb. </p>
<p>Right hand first, find leverage; left hand, raising his body weight up; a stable footing established, then rinse and repeat. The ground dropped away before him as he rose, higher and higher, never slowing his pace even when his arms began to ache with exertion. Up past the fifth floor, the sixth, where the palace architects had installed a row of windows along the baseboards of the outer corridor. Prompto remembered these windows well and - <em> yes! </em>The furthest one to the edge opened with a gentle push inward. If no one had bothered to check his other secret entrances over the past two years, sneaking through the Citadel was going to be a breeze. </p>
<p>The corridor led him to a narrow staff stairwell that clicked open at a swipe of his old card. No voices or footsteps inside meant the coast was clear for now, and he had a straight shot for the training dojo two floors directly below. </p>
<p>Unfortunately <em> that </em>floor, he soon discovered, was crawling with guards on break between shifts. Prompto pressed himself to the wall next to the open stairwell door. No one had seen him peeking around the corner, at least, but he was going to have to find a way past them if he wanted to finish this without getting caught. </p>
<p>The vents, then. Prompto raced back up to the floor above, one with thankfully less foot traffic, and slipped quietly into the restrooms at the end of the hall. He found the vent cover easy enough to remove, and its width even more accommodating when he dragged his weight up into it. Next stop: mission complete. </p>
<p>The ducts led him to the right floor, but a few meters off from where he estimated the dojo should be. No matter. He'd either come out in the locker room or the storage closet, and either way he'd have more luck blending in than if he'd barged through the front doors. Carefully, not risking making a sound, he unscrewed the cover of the vent near his feet and swung down ass-first into darkness. </p>
<p>It was...a room. A rather cold room, not hardwood underfoot like he'd expected, but tiled. <em> Wet </em>, too, he grimaced as he brushed his hand against a wall in search of his bearings. Definitely not the storage closet, then. Had his mental map of the floor's layout been wrong? Or had they renovated in the time since he'd gone back to Gralea? His curiosity had just about led him to risk a peek around with his pocket lamp when, to his dismay and horror, a door swung open and someone flicked on the lights. </p>
<p>There was nowhere to run. There he stood, exposed in the middle of - oh, yeah, okay, a shower room, that totally made sense - like a common criminal caught in the act. It was over. He'd blown his cover. He'd have to fight his way out or risk compromising the mission completely, starting with this big guy right-- </p>
<p>"...<em> Prom?!"  </em></p>
<p>Blue eyes widened in recognition of that voice. His brain caught up with the moment, and now he saw him. Tall, broad, dark brown hair falling in curls around tattooed shoulders. Honey amber gaze staring right at him in a mix of disbelief and shock, above a mouth Prompto couldn't truly forget even if he'd wanted to. The panic racing through his blood faltered, leaving him unsure how to react. </p>
<p>Then, simply: "G-Gladio…?"</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>"Two years. Two <em> fucking </em> years!" </p>
<p>They'd retreated to the locker room where, through the fog of his shock, Gladiolus Amicitia had at least had the foresight to shove a chair under the handle of the door. What he <em> hadn't </em> considered was the possibility of putting on a shirt while he paced in front of Prompto like a really attractive, really pissed off ex. "All that time you never called, never texted. I thought you were <em> dead </em>, Prom!" </p>
<p>"I'm sorry." </p>
<p>"Who just vanishes like that, anyway? We searched for you - <em> Noct </em> searched for you! <em> Fuck </em>," he swore, stopping suddenly to catch his breath and run his palms over his face. "Does Noct know? Was he in on this?"</p>
<p>"N-no, Gladio, I promise. It's, uh. Complicated." </p>
<p>"Complicated? Like answering your fucking messages was apparently too complicated?" </p>
<p>"I...had to ditch my phone." </p>
<p>Gladio dropped his weight onto the bench beside him, shoulders drooping under the burden of emotion he bore. Like a physical tension, heavy enough that Prompto could feel it dragging down the very air. <em> Hurt. Regret. Old wounds that had never fully healed. </em> This was why they weren't supposed to get close, to get <em> attached </em> on missions - or ever. People like Prompto...they never stayed long enough to say goodbye. </p>
<p>But Gladio had been a force he ultimately couldn't resist. "I'm so sorry, Gladio. I…wanted to tell you. Trust me, this isn't how I expected things to go." </p>
<p>"You ghosted me, Prom. Was it something I said?" Those soft, sad eyes turned up to him now in question. "Was it something I <em> did?"  </em></p>
<p>"It wasn't you," Prompto answered, knowing even as he said it how much worse his words made them both feel. "I had to go, it wasn't my choice. If I could've stayed here with you…. But, it's not that easy. I'm...sorry, for leading you on." </p>
<p>Neither spoke for a while. Outside the locker rooms, Prompto could hear the sound of training resuming in the hall, sticks clacking together and raised voices shouting commands. Somewhere out there, Titus Drautos was probably filing among the ranks, a walking target who just didn't know it yet. </p>
<p>The mission, for once, could wait. Prompto glanced at the man beside him - the man who stirred up so many memories, so many aches inside his chest he wasn't quite sure how to deal with just yet. "For what it's worth...I missed you." </p>
<p>"Yeah, well." Gladio dragged the back of his hand across his eyes, setting his face in a hard line as he stood to his feet again. The laughably small towel around his hips sort of ruined the effect. "I've spent two years trying to hold on to your scent on my sheets. Hoping you were safe wherever you were out there. Guess I should've moved on like everyone told me." </p>
<p><em> Gladio. </em> Gods, this was…. Prompto didn't even have words. His eyes stung with unshed tears, and his heart <em> ached </em> to do something, anything to comfort this man he'd once - and still, he realized - loved. Despite the risks, despite the dangers if the Order were to find out. Despite how unlikely it was that Gladio could ever forgive him…he owed him the truth. </p>
<p>"I...I'm not from Insomnia." </p>
<p>Gladio didn't turn back, but he did slow his pace towards the door. </p>
<p>"My name isn't really 'Prompto', either, but…. Well, I guess I should start from the beginning. Um, how do I explain this. I…." He swallowed. Fidgeted with the collar of his vest while he waited for an interruption that never came. "I'm a Niflheim spy." </p>
<p>"...A <em> what? </em>" </p>
<p>"Please don't freak out. Okay, I mean, maybe just freak out a normal amount. Look, I never meant any harm to you or Noctis, I was sent by the Or--" </p>
<p>"The fuck kind of lie is that, Prom? You think making up some ridiculous excuse is gonna make me feel better?" Now Gladio was facing him again (the towel was coming loose, oh gods, don't stare) and he'd folded his massive arms over his intimidating chest. "Just admit you ghosted me. Man up." </p>
<p>"No! I mean, I'm telling you the truth, so listen, okay?" Heart pounding, he took a step closer and carefully unfastened the hidden blade from around his right wrist. Beneath, his unit number glared in stark ink against his pale skin . "I was raised by the Order, operating under Aldercapt and a man called the Father. A few years back, they sent me here with a fake profile to get intel on the Citadel's security. I know...how that sounds. And, yeah. It was probably as bad as you're thinking at first. But I promise you. Once I got to know Noct, and spent time with...everyone, I did what I could to slow the mission down. I didn't...want any of you to get hurt." </p>
<p>"And when you up and disappeared?" </p>
<p>"I had to cut ties, it's protocol. I didn't…. They weren't supposed to send me back here." </p>
<p>"That's…. <em> Six, </em>Prom. You really know how to lay it on thick. I...I need some time to…." </p>
<p>He nodded, still fighting back tears of shame and, naturally, bone chilling fear. What he'd just told Gladio amounted to treason. It went against his very nature, all the hours of initiation, where they'd been forced to hold their tongue through unimaginable tortures. Now, he'd given Gladio his secret freely - and doing so put them both at risk. </p>
<p>"You can't tell anyone about this, okay? Just let me finish one thing, and then we can talk about it all you want." And there went his mouth, digging his grave even deeper. "But first, can you tell me anything about Titus Drautos?" </p>
<p>"The Captain? Yeah, he's-- Wait," Gladio frowned, eyes darkening. "Don't tell me he's caught up in this, too?" </p>
<p>"Sor...ta?" </p>
<p>It was admittedly a lot to take in, Prompto got that. It was probably better to have let Gladio think he just didn't love him, that he'd left because of some kind of commitment issue. That would’ve hurt, yeah, but it would've at least spared him the unpleasant truth about what happened in the shadows right under his very well-trained nose. </p>
<p>But there could be time later for regrets. Now, it was important that he finish his reconnaissance work and get them both somewhere safer to talk. "Gladdy…. Gladio. I need to find the Captain. Can you tell me where he is?" </p>
<p>"Why, so you can lie your way into his life and then leave him alone and miserable?" </p>
<p>"…Okay, ouch. I deserved that." He bit his lip, knowing the only way ahead was going to cost him another six feet in the hole he was digging. Gods, if only he'd snuck in through the sewage instead of the vents. "Listen. Drautos worked for the same Order as I do, but he's gone off radar. I was sent here to track him down, and…stop him if he's been compromised." </p>
<p>"'Stop'," Gladio repeated. His eyes darkened in suspicion and concern. "As in, <em> kill him </em> . You're planning to <em> kill </em> the captain of the Kingsguard." </p>
<p>"I, well. I have to follow orders, Gladio." </p>
<p>"I can't let you do that." The towel around his waist only slightly lessened how intimidating Gladio Amicitia could be at full height. He'd drawn himself up, his fingers twitching with blue sparks Prompto recognized all too well. <em> The Armiger </em>. In the space of a heartbeat he could draw his massive greatsword out of the ether of the Crystal's magic. Prompto had seen him in battle, knew how little of a chance he stood against a fully enraged Shield of the King. But Gladio wasn't actually threatening to hurt him…was he? </p>
<p>"U-um. What're you doing, Big Guy?" </p>
<p>"Protecting a superior officer, <em> Argentum. </em>Stand down." </p>
<p>"W-wait, I just told you he's a spy, y-you can't be seriousl--" </p>
<p>"Don't make me do this." </p>
<p>More sparks flickered, and behind the anger in Gladio's eyes, the hurt there was real. Of course it was. He was as bound to his duty as Prompto was, and just as unable to follow his heart. </p>
<p>"Gladio, I…." </p>
<p>"No need for heroics, Amicitia. I can handle this myself." Prompto hadn't heard the shower door open again, but Gladio had snapped his eyes up at the exact second the voice entered the room. There, leaning in the frame with a worn, hard expression, was Titus Drautos himself. He looked exactly as he had in the files Father had shown him. Only somehow taller, more frightening in person. </p>
<p>Or maybe that was simply on account of the gun he was holding near his hip, the barrel sleek and aimed directly for Prompto’s chest. </p>
<p>“Captain...sir?” </p>
<p>"It's a shame this one isn't more careful with his words. You might have still walked away from this, Gladio." </p>
<p>"Put the gun down, sir." Caution laced his tone, and the crackle of energy from the Crystal grew stronger. "No one is getting hurt." </p>
<p>"Funny, my orders specify very differently. Oh, don't look so surprised, boy," Drautos smirked in response to Prompto's confusion. "Did you really think you were the only one with a mission here? Your slip up is my ticket back into the Father's good graces. Two heads for the price of one - they may even give me a promotion for this." </p>
<p>"Traitor!" Gladio snarled, and in a flash of blue his greatsword was fast in his grip. He nearly bowled Prompto over in his effort to charge forward, but Drautos reacted quickly. The gun shifted targets, he lifted it even as he lunged backwards out of range, and a deafening shot ripped through the air. <em> Ping! </em> It ricocheted off the flat of Gladio's blade, which he'd raised shield-like in front of himself, and sunk instead into the wall to Drautos' right. </p>
<p>Another shot was fired, and another, but Gladio didn't yield an inch. Continuing to block with his massive blade, he closed the distance until Drautos was forced backwards toward the showers. </p>
<p>Prompto saw their opening, and took it. "Gladio! Leave him, this way!"</p>
<p>Amber eyes glanced back, only briefly but it was long enough to read the hesitation there. For a moment, it seemed as though Gladio wasn't going to trust him. That he was going to try to stop Drautos - a trained killer - on his own, even as the captain found his footing again and took aim. </p>
<p>Before Prompto could shout in warning, Gladio surprised them both with an arcing slash of his greatsword. Not forward, but directly up, metal slicing through the pipes that lined the ceiling to send bursts of water spraying out in all directions. One blast shot towards Drautos and he twisted off balance to avoid the spray, giving Gladio the chance he'd been looking for. He didn't waste another second. Turned quickly, and dispersed his sword back into the magic of the Armiger. Charged to the door where Prompto waited for him, and together they slammed it shut, wedging a bench from the locker room under the handle for good measure. </p>
<p>There was no time, of course, to celebrate. While Gladio knew the building best, they would draw too much attention like this - a soaking wet Shield and the missing best friend of the prince - and so Prompto took the lead once again. Out through the back exit and into the staff stairwell he'd used on the way up. </p>
<p>Footsteps sounded heavy on the lower floors, so together the two headed upwards, flight after flight slowly winding Gladio until, around the 11th floor, he at last paused to catch his breath. </p>
<p>"How…are you doing…all this?" he panted, hands gripping his bare knees for support. Prompto, meanwhile, was focused on the sound of guards still pounding up the stairs after them. </p>
<p>"Cardio," he answered offhandedly. Leaning over the edge of the railing, he scanned the next few floors above them until he found what he was searching for: an emergency exit built into the outer wall, leading most likely to a fire escape or, at the very least, an open ledge. Prompto made up his mind, and knelt down next to Gladio on the steps. </p>
<p>"Looks like this is goodbye again, Big Guy," he smiled sadly. Gladio looked up, confusion written all over his face. "You'll be fine, but I can't let them find me. You can tell them you were chasing a spy. You'll be fine." </p>
<p>Repeating it didn't make it any more believable, nor did it do anything to improve Gladio's mood. In fact, he seemed to recover from his exhaustion with lightning speed, and drew himself up to tower over Prompto. "Like hell I'm letting you walk away from me again, Prom. We're in this together now, and until I figure out who I can trust here, I'm not sticking around either. So, you got a plan or not?" </p>
<p>He swallowed. Gladio sounded serious, like the no-nonsense kind of serious. Like he was actually suggesting they team up to make it out of the Citadel and beyond. Like he was offering to be Prompto's partner. </p>
<p>"Um. Y-yeah, sure," he nodded carefully. "You're not, like, afraid of heights are you?" </p>
<p>The emergency door led them out onto a platform that, at one time, had likely been connected to some sort of scaffolding. Now, it was little more than a narrow ledge, with no railing and a hundred foot drop to the ground below. Prompto held tight onto a beveled window sill while he scanned the streets. </p>
<p>"...There's a pond in the palace gardens, about thirty feet from the building. I can't tell how deep it is from here, but--"</p>
<p>"A <em> pond </em>?! Prom, cut the jokes already." </p>
<p>"Not joking. I've done it before." </p>
<p>"What, gotten yourself killed?!" </p>
<p>"Trust me. Just close your eyes, hold onto me, and take a leap of faith," Prompto said, grinning despite his own quivering nerves. "What's the worst that could happen?" </p>
<p>"Do you really want the whole list?" Behind them, on the other side of the door, voices were growing louder. The clank of boots on stairs echoed in the corridor. Time was running out. </p>
<p>"Gladio. It's fine, I promise. Just trust me." </p>
<p>"This is fucking insane," he groaned, even as he took Prompto's outstretched hand and stepped up to his side. "I've completely lost my mind." </p>
<p>"Hang on tight." Prompto calculated the distance, trying to ignore both the feel of Gladio's arms closing around his waist and the naked chest pressing to his cheek. "I've got you, Big Guy." </p>
<p>"This isn't happening, I'm hallucinating, this is all just a nightmare--" </p>
<p>"Here we go."</p>
<p>"--not even getting laid in this dream and--" </p>
<p>"Three, two…!" </p>
<p>The door to the stairs burst open, but all the guards who rushed onto the platform found was a lone towel hanging from the edge of the planks. </p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The water was warm enough, but that didn't lessen the sting of the impact or the sudden overwhelming lack of air in his lungs. </p>
<p>Gladio still clung to him, frozen, it seemed, in the shock of the fall. His weight made it more difficult to orient himself, but Prompto was grateful he'd at least stopped screaming. Locking onto the light shining on the surface of the pond, he hooked his arms around Gladio's chest, and kicked his feet until they were both heading topside. </p>
<p>He broke the surface with a gasp for air - followed quickly by another faceful of pond water as Gladio, coming to his senses again, whipped his hair around in excitement. </p>
<p>"<em> Waaaa-hooooo! </em> We're alive! We're really alive!" He laughed, and hugged Prompto tight enough to once more force the air from his lungs. "Did you feel it? We stared death right in the face! I've never felt so <em> good </em>!" </p>
<p>"G-la...ddy…!" </p>
<p>"Prom!" This time when he laughed, he lifted Prompto up into the air in his arms, and spun them both around in his adrenaline-fueled mania. "That was amazing! <em> You </em> were amazing!" Something else was said, but all Prompto remembered was the way large hands felt around his waist, and the way he seemed to fit right into place once Gladio brought him down into a hug again. </p>
<p>Two years may have passed, but to him it felt like they'd never stopped holding onto each other. In a way, maybe they hadn't. It felt too right to sink into him, to suspend reality for a few blissful seconds of his warmth. It was too <em> easy </em> to start to wonder again how things might have been - might still be - if he were finally allowed to keep this. To keep Gladio. </p>
<p>"Prom," the voice against his ear repeated, more steady now as the surface of the pond around them calmed. Strong hands held him firm, pulled him closer, almost desperately. "Prompto, I…." </p>
<p>A flush rose to his cheeks faster than the speed with which he'd flung them both off the Citadel ledge. He pushed backwards to put an inch of space between their bodies down below, and that's when Gladio noticed it, too. His cheeks flared to match Prompto's and, though hesitant, he released him out of sheer embarrassment. "…I, uh." </p>
<p>"N-no, it's fine!" </p>
<p>"'S just the adrenaline, y'know. From the, uh." </p>
<p>"Right." </p>
<p>"The falling thing." </p>
<p>"Yeah, no. Happens all the time." He covered his secret smile with a cough. "We should maybe find you some clothes, though." </p>
<p>Gladio ran his fingers back through his thoroughly soaked mane. "Sure. Just, uh. Give me a minute."</p>
<p>Prompto made his way to the edge of the pond. They were lucky - the surrounding gardens provided enough privacy that no one seemed to have noticed them plummet from the tower. At least no one had come running yet, so it was safe to assume they were, for now, in the clear. </p>
<p>On the downside, it was going to be a lot harder to find something for Gladio to wear. </p>
<p>After a quick reconnaissance of the area, Prompto at last discovered a tool shed half hidden behind a row of tall hedges.  The lock was easy enough to pick even with the tools in his pocket slightly damper than usual. Inside the shed, he found not only a worker's uniform (a bit tight; it would have to do) but also an array of gardening knives, lighters, some rope, and even a pair of clip-on flashlights. Prompto dropped these into an empty plastic bag, and sped back towards the pond to check on the big guy. </p>
<p>Gladio was waiting for him, still submerged in the water up to his waist, but looking otherwise no worse for the wear. He was so grateful for the change of clothes that he didn't even bother asking where Prompto had found them. The moss-green jumper hugged his calves and even after squeezing his shoulders into it the zipper wouldn't close all the way up. But it was better than being naked and, if Prompto had any say in the matter, he didn't mind the way it gripped Gladio's ass at all. </p>
<p>There was no time to stop and admire the view, though. It was only a matter of luck that they'd escape the Citadel unseen, but guards would be swarming the city soon. Even the Amicitia name would do little to protect them if Drautos was leading the charge, now that the mission had gone belly up. Their best bet, Prompto explained, was to get out of Insomnia, head to a safe location, and figure out their next steps from there. </p>
<p>"Out of the city, huh. We could take my dad's truck." </p>
<p>Prompto frowned thoughtfully. "The only place I know about beyond the walls is Hammerhead. The mechanic there is nice, we can trust her." </p>
<p>"So," Gladio continued, his fingers toying absently with the zipper on his borrowed uniform. "Back to my place, I'll grab some real clothes, we steal dad's truck, and head for Leide?" </p>
<p>'Steal' was a bit of a strong word, and it left Prompto with a bitter taste in his mouth. Clarus Amicitia had shown him nothing but kindness in the past, despite knowing more than most about the relationship Prompto had with his son. Would he be able to understand this time, too? "Right. We should...tell him what's going on, once we're out of the city. He deserves to know." </p>
<p>"This is why he always liked you, Prom." There was a hint of sadness in Gladio's smile, but he quickly shrugged it aside in favor of setting their plan in motion. Dusk was setting in - darkness always seemed to fall early in the Crown City - and they needed to move fast if they wanted to get past the Walls before night. </p>
<p>The Amicitia house wasn't far from the Citadel, a perk, Prompto supposed, of being so well connected to the royal family. As they approached the front steps, Gladio motioned for Prompto to wait around the side, where the truck was parked in the open garage. "Iris might be home. Stay hidden," he whispered. "I'll be back, ten minutes tops." Prompto's response was a sharp nod. </p>
<p>He found space between two tool shelves, a narrow opening just large enough for him to squat down out of sight. For the first few minutes, he killed time surveying the garage. Not much had changed in two years - the workbench was still cluttered, and the chair Clarus had been talking about building as long as he'd known him still lay unfinished in the corner. The sight brought a smile to Prompto's face despite everything. <em> This </em> was what it felt like to have normalcy, to have a life. Without knowing it, Gladio had always given him this...this feeling. Comfort? Belonging? </p>
<p>He couldn't put his finger on it, but he realized with a pang just how much he'd missed this. </p>
<p>Several more minutes passed, and Gladio still hadn't returned. Concern was starting to grow in Prompto's mind, so to distract himself he pulled out his phone. It was an unreleased model built by the organization itself, a short of prototype communication and tracking device all assassins in the Order had to be equipped with. Though it looked and functioned outwardly like any normal phone (Prompto had discovered quickly that, yeah, he could play games on it), its main purpose was a direct line of contact with the Order back home. Encrypted messages, including mission reports, could be sent and received, and in the event of a worst case scenario, the memory could be wiped by scanning one's unit code. </p>
<p>Thankfully, neither the dive off the Citadel nor subsequent plunge into the pond had managed to permanently damage Prompto's device. He wiped the screen on his sleeve, and tested the power button to check that it still worked. There were no new messages, he was relieved to find. Only one push notification from his King's Knight app, letting him know a new character was available in the shop. </p>
<p>A smile. It had been the prince that had gotten him into this game in the first place. After he'd left the city and shed the skin of his old life here, he'd still kept the app on his phone for some reason. Even opened it from time to time, if only to see Noct's name come up in his friends list. </p>
<p>Now seemed like as good a time as any. Volume low, screen on low brightness to avoid illuminating his hiding position, Prompto signed into his account and started a new campaign.</p>
<p>Three levels and half of his remaining kingstones later, a pair of boots came to a halt on the concrete in front of him. It wasn't until Gladio spoke that he even noticed him standing there at all. "You still play that old game? You know they stopped service for it." </p>
<p>More than a little startled (when was the last time he'd let himself lose awareness like that?) Prompto quickly tucked his phone away in his vest. "Uh, yeah, I guess I forgot to delete it." </p>
<p>"Uh-huh, sure." </p>
<p>Blue eyes indulged briefly in the sight of a better dressed Gladio in front of him - he'd changed into worn jeans, a tight fitting white shirt, and the same dark leather jacket Prompto distinctly remembered him wearing on their first date - before narrowing into a glare. "I'll have you know I don't even have time for games, usually. I'm a busy man now." </p>
<p>"Right, the whole spy thing. Hop in," Gladio smirked as he held the passenger door of the truck open. He waited for Prompto to settle into the seat, then made his way around to the drivers side. "You can tell me all about it once we get on the open road." </p>
<p>Prompto mumbled something noncommittal just as the engine roared to life. They backed out of the driveway and then, with a last, lingering look up at the darkened windows of his home, Gladio steered them in the opposite direction. </p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Night fell sooner than either of them would have liked. Traffic at the Wall had slowed them down, random security checks on account of the high alert that had gone out to all Crownsguard across the city. Gladio, too, had received the message on his phone - <em> two male suspects, one blond, one ex-military: proceed with caution, may be armed - </em>and had immediately texted his sister to lay low for a while. It was only his father's clearance pass in the glovebox that got them through the security net undetected at all. </p>
<p>Still, the drive had been tense, and neither he nor Prompto spoke for a long time after passing out of the city. Music played quietly on the radio to fill the silence, the same old twanging country station that Clarus had apparently preset to every button. But even that faded the further they traveled from Insomnia, out into the dusty wasteland of Leide. </p>
<p>Finally, the quiet grew to be too much for Gladio. "...You know what's weird?" he asked unprompted, his voice almost jarring in the otherwise silent cabin. When Prompto didn't respond, he continued anyway. "Drautos knows exactly who we both are. He could've put an APB out with our names, our faces. Why didn't he?" </p>
<p>It was meant to be a rhetorical question, but in all honesty the same problem had been plaguing Prompto for the last hour or so. Something felt...wrong. "Maybe he doesn't want to alert the Order? If I get captured by the Lucians, maybe he knows Niflheim will let him go down with me." </p>
<p>Next to him, Gladio shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Huh," was all he said for a long moment. Overhead, the glimmer of stars began to disappear behind a mass of dark clouds. "Prom, can I ask you something? Are you…. I mean, why do you fight for the Niffs? I thought…. Well, when you were part of our group, I…." </p>
<p>"I dunno, Gladio. I was born there, the Order basically raised me. I don't exactly have any other options, y'know?" </p>
<p>"Don't you?" </p>
<p>"What?" He tore his gaze from his own reflection in the window to stare at Gladio instead. </p>
<p>"I just, uh. Y'know," he began awkwardly, his fingers tapping the wheel in a nervous tell. "Having you back is, well. I don't exactly want to say <em> nice </em>, considering we're both fugitives right now, but I'm glad to see you. It's a lot like the old days, just...crazier." </p>
<p>He couldn't resist a weak laugh at that. Leave it to Gladio to try to be romantic while they were literally on the run from the entire Lucian army. "I'm happy to see you again, too," he answered after a pause. "And...for what it's worth, sorry for all the mess. I fucked up big time." </p>
<p>"Nah. It's that asshole Drautos. Soon as we get to Hammerhead, I'll call my dad and clear things up." </p>
<p>"Think Clarus will even listen?" Prompto kicked his boots up on the dash. "You <em> did </em>steal his truck."</p>
<p>"<em> We </em>stole his truck, Prom. You're taking responsibility for that one at least." A sidelong glance, accompanied with a grin that told Prompto somehow, someway, this was all going to work out eventually. Even if it was him and Gladio against the world, everything would be okay. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hammerhead was, quite literally, a light in the darkness. Powerful lamps in the parking lot flooded the area ahead with the promise of safety, and not a moment too soon. Gladio turned the truck off the road to the sound of demonic cries in the not-so-distant distance - a stark reminder to Prompto of what dangers those he served were capable of. </p>
<p>The shop was already closed for the night, but an old man was still sitting in a plastic lawn chair in front of the doors. He regarded the odd pair approaching him with nothing short of suspicion, and Prompto guessed if he'd had a gun on him, he might have been keen to shoot first and greet later. </p>
<p>"Hold it right there, punks. We ain't got no money, and if we did, I wouldn't let ye near it anyway." </p>
<p>"We're not here to rob you," Gladio laughed lightly, as if the old geezer hadn't just threatened them. "It's been a while, Cid. I can't blame you for not remembering a familiar face when you see one." </p>
<p>The old man hunched his shoulders like a chocobo whose feathers had been ruffled the wrong way. "I ain't that old, y'brat! C'mere, let me get a look atcha.... Hah! Well, I'll be a pickled dualhorn in the summer sun. Gladiolus? That you?" </p>
<p>"Who else?" He learned closer to Prompto, lowering his voice for his benefit. "He's an old family friend - emphasis on the <em> old </em> part. But we can trust him. Let me take the lead." </p>
<p>That plan suited Prompto just fine. He was admittedly a little disappointed the young woman from before didn't seem to have returned from her errands in the city yet, but it was still nice to breathe freely again for a time. </p>
<p>"What brings the two of ya out this way so late? If I didn't know better, I’d think y'all were in some kind of trouble." The old man, Cid, sized them both up for a moment in the light. His eyes lingered in particular on Prompto, sharp despite his age. Giving the impression that he could see something far below the surface, until Prompto, unsettled and flushing red, turned away from his gaze. </p>
<p>"You could say that," Gladio spoke into the tension thick air between them. "Was hoping we could rent that old caravan of yours for the night, if it's free." </p>
<p>"Free, no, but there ain't no one stayin' in it." Cid cleared his throat, and reached up to scratch under the rim of his cap. "I guess I could give y'all a discount, on account of that roast yer old man sent us last Solstice." </p>
<p>Prompto wasn’t sure a geezer like Cid should be calling Clarus Amicitia an 'old man,' but Gladio took it in stride. "That'd be great. You're a huge help, Cid. Uh, there's one more thing, though. Could you find room for our truck inside your garage…?" </p>
<p>"Hoo, boy. Y'all really are in a lick of trouble, aintcha? Fine, fine. I'll hide 'er, don't you worry about a thing." </p>
<p>"Thank you, Cid," Prompto said, offering a smile - but regretted it the second those piercing eyes were on him again. </p>
<p>"Ain't I seen you somewhere before, kid?" </p>
<p>"U-uh, I was here this morning, sir. I got a ride from Miss Cindy into town." </p>
<p>"Hm," was all he replied, in a tone that said he wasn't at all convinced. Without so much as a goodnight, he took the keys from Gladio and headed for the truck parked behind them. The two were left to exchange looks before, shrugging, Gladio led them both over to the single trailer at the edge of the lot. </p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>"There wasn't much in the cabinets. Just some chips and a few expired cups of noodles." </p>
<p>The latter Prompto tossed into Gladio's lap on the way past, noticing the taller man didn't seem the least bit disappointed in the results. He ripped open the first cup and dug into the freeze dried noodles without sparing a thought to share. "Sweet. They don't even make this flavor inside the Crown City anymore. Cid always keeps the good stuff laying around." </p>
<p>"Glad you're so easy to satisfy." Smirking, Prompto dropped into the sofa next to him and popped open the bag of chips. They were a little on the stale side, but at least they stopped his stomach from protesting. "Did you get a hold of your dad?" </p>
<p>A shrug as Gladio shoved another block of dry ramen into his mouth. "He's not answering, so I sent him a text. Hopefully Iris is around to show him how to open it." </p>
<p>"Hmm. How about Noct? Iggy?" </p>
<p>"Nah. I figured it's better to leave them out of this until Drautos is in custody. No sense panicking Iggy, you know how he is." </p>
<p>"Eheh. Good point." Silence fell between them again, more comfortable now that they weren't running from their own shadows. It wasn't unlike the nights they used to spend together back in the day, cuddled up on Prompto's small couch, only pretending to watch whatever was playing on TV while they found better things to do with their hands. The memory was enough to bring a tint of warmth to freckled cheeks, and Prompto found himself struggling not to shift a little further towards the shoulder to his left. </p>
<p>Those days were long gone. As much as he hated to admit it, there was no way to go back to the false innocence of their past, his ties to the organization had seen to that. It wasn't fair, either, to expect Gladio to forgive him for leaving. What they'd had, the love they'd once shared, was nothing more than a bittersweet memory of a life Prompto was never meant to have lived. </p>
<p>"Hey." Gladio's voice was close, deep. It resonated through him. "You alright?" </p>
<p>Prompto forced out a humorless laugh. "Are <em> you?" </em></p>
<p>“I’m getting by. All things considered, I guess it could be worse." </p>
<p>Now Prompto did turn up to face him, inadvertently leaning closer in an attempt to crane his neck back. "Gladdy, you're a wanted man. Your teammates are out there looking for you, and at least one of them is a secret agent working for the single biggest threat to your homeland. How can it possibly get any worse?"</p>
<p>Whatever he was expecting in answer, it certainly wasn't the arm that slid across the back of the cushions to envelop him, or the warm smile that Gladio offered as he pulled him in close. "Don't know, don't care. You're here. That's all that matters." </p>
<p>"You can't mean that," he sighed, even as he sank into the embrace. Some things just weren’t meant to be resisted. "You ought to hate me." </p>
<p>"Maybe. But I don't." Familiar lips brushed over his temple, kissed their way up into his hair where every breath sent shivers through Prompto's entire frame. "You're bound by duty, Prom, the same way I am. Take away the loyalties, the ranks...what are we then? Just two idiots who don't know any better." </p>
<p>Prompto swallowed. He wanted to believe it, so desperately it physically hurt. The clenching in his chest - he'd felt this before, on the night he'd fled from Insomnia without a chance to say goodbye. He remembered the message as it had read on his phone screen: <em> Mission complete, return to Zegnautus. </em> He remembered Gladio's face, so peaceful in sleep, as he'd slipped out of his bed for the last time. </p>
<p>That hurt was real, more real than anything he'd ever felt in his short, miserable life in the Order. There, everything felt cold, alien, harsh, the exact opposite of the joys he'd come to know in such a short time. How many times had he considered defecting after that? Running back to Insomnia to his friends, and to the man he had never been able to stop loving? </p>
<p>Yet he'd never had the guts to do it then. What made him think this time would be any different? </p>
<p>"Gladio. I want…." </p>
<p>"Say it, Prom. You already know my answer."</p>
<p>"I want...a shower," he finished, voice cracking as he took the easy way out. Gladio didn't speak at first, didn't even huff in that way he sometimes did when a character in one of his books did something dumb. Instead, he let his lips ghost down the side of Prompto's face, down over his cheek to press at the corner of his trembling mouth. </p>
<p>"Can I join you?" </p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The water pressure was a joke and the temp was lukewarm at best, but Prompto couldn't have cared less that night. </p>
<p>Getting the pond scum out of their hair and out from under fingernails had mostly been a pretense. It had allowed him to run his palms through soapy bubbles all over firm, tattooed pecs. It had let him arc into the sensation of Gladio's fingers in his hair, and bring their bodies close, so much closer now with nothing else between them. </p>
<p>Prompto wasn't sure who had initiated the kiss. In a way, he wanted to believe it was Gladio, that he might be free of some of the guilt when, inevitably, this all exploded in his face again. But he also knew in some secret part of him that <em> he'd </em> been the one to pull Gladio down first, to gasp against his mouth as if for a warm breeze after a long, lonely winter. It was only from there that it became impossible to see the lines anymore, or to know where his desires ended and Gladio's lust began. </p>
<p>Teeth grazed his bottom lip. The hardness of Gladio's cock pressed proudly against his abdomen, no longer his shame but an expression of how deeply he, too, had missed this. Prompto struggled to focus on anything else. His body remembered, and his body <em> craved </em> more of Gladio’s attention, wanted to be surrounded by him, filled by him. </p>
<p>"<em> Prom, </em> " that voice breathed against his mouth. " <em> Six, </em>I need you." </p>
<p>"Mmm." In answer, he curled his fingers around the length jutting against him. Lifted his own hips until they were both squeezed tight in his fist, rocking together even as the kiss broke at last. Gladio closed his eyes, letting his forehead come to rest against Prompto's. He groaned, heady and rich, and brought his fist down to join in the act. </p>
<p><em> Gods, </em>it was good. Release, pleasure. It felt so godsdamned good to give over control for a change and let Gladio steady them both. To be vulnerable in his arms. To beg, even, with heated blue eyes, and to come for him with only one name on his lips. </p>
<p>Heart pounding, mind spinning with climax, Prompto turned to face cold tiles, and gave himself to Gladio completely. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The trailer was dark, the world outside quiet. In their rented bedroom, Gladio had already fallen asleep, and was snoring rhythmically with each sated breath. It was…comfortable, Prompto thought. He could get used to this again. </p>
<p>In the dim light of the single bulb in the bathroom, he'd been staring into the mirror above the sink for the past ten minutes. The face he saw there - blue eyes bright above glowing cheeks, red marks decorating his neck and collar, blond hair still damp from the shower, sticking up in odd places that for some reason didn't bother him at all - he thought he recognized himself for the first time in his life. He was Prompto Argentum, a nobody from the suburbs of Insomnia who had miraculously befriended a prince. It didn't feel like a lie anymore; <em> he </em>didn't feel like a lie. </p>
<p>With a smile, he switched off the light above the sink and dropped his towel into a bin in the hall. Tiptoed through the dark trailer towards the room at the back, where Gladio's dark hair splayed out across the pillows and his bare chest rose and fell with each breath. The sight was too inviting to pass up. Prompto climbed onto the mattress next to him, and sank down against his side. Gladio had always run hot, especially at night, and now Prompto curled around him as if to take in as much of his warmth as possible. </p>
<p>Legs twined together, arm draped across hard abs, and his head nestled comfortably beneath Gladio's chin, Prompto drifted off into the best sleep he'd had in more than two years. </p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>His phone was what woke him, sometime in the early hours of morning before the sun was up. Prompto heard it buzzing from his vest pocket where it lay forgotten on the floor. <em> Bzzt. Bzzt. </em>Twice it sounded, and then went silent. </p>
<p>It was enough to leave him wide awake with dread. The only messages that phone received anymore were directly from the Order, and he couldn't think of any good reason they'd be contacting him now. He was tempted to ignore it - after all, the bed was warm, and Gladio's arm around his waist was reluctant to release him - yet so his years of training couldn't be thrown out so easily. Pressing a kiss to the shoulder draped over him, he quietly slipped out from under the sheets. </p>
<p>The phone blinked intermittently inside his vest. As he dug it out, he tried to prepare himself for whatever it might say. Would they be asking for a mission report? Had they found out about Drautos' betrayal, and were summoning him back to base? Yet none of his expectations could have prepared him for what he was about to read on his screen. </p>
<p><em> "Mission failure. Unit compromised." </em> </p>
<p>Instantly, those words filled him with cold-blooded fear. <em> Compromised? </em> That was impossible! There had to be a mistake. He'd done everything they asked short of killing a man, and there was no way they could possibly know about-- </p>
<p>Prompto froze, his eyes fixed on Gladio still sleeping in the bed. <em> Of course they knew </em> . Maybe they'd known all along. Drautos had said it himself - Prompto hadn't been the only one with a mission in Insomnia. What if the Order had sent him there into a trap? Had <em> he </em>been the one marked for termination from the start?  </p>
<p>Suddenly, Prompto found it hard to breathe. Neither he nor Gladio could stay here - they couldn't stay <em> anywhere </em> so long as the Order was tracking him. Agents could be swarming Hammerhead already. They'd locate his phone, block the exits, and then…. </p>
<p>"Prom?" Groggy, Gladio lifted his head from the pillows and blinked around the dark room. His concern at waking to find the bed empty beside him was replaced by relief when his eyes landed on Prompto across the bedroom. Then back to concern again when he noticed the phone and clothes hanging from his grip. "Are you...leaving?" </p>
<p>Despite the sting of panic, Prompto managed to shake his head. "No. Well, I mean, <em> yeah </em>, but not on my own. Gladdy, we have to get moving." </p>
<p>"We? What's going on?" He was sitting up now, and the tone of Prompto's voice seemed to bring him around to full alertness. "Did they find us?" </p>
<p>"Maybe? I don't know," Prompto admitted. With a sigh, he slumped down onto the edge of the mattress, and held out his phone. "I think Drautos turned us in. I'm probably marked."</p>
<p>"Marked?" </p>
<p>"Made a target, as in <em> 'to be terminated </em>.' They'll use this phone to track me down, and then no matter how far I run they'll never stop chasing me. It's...over."</p>
<p>Gladio rubbed at his eyes with his knuckles, both to clear the sleep from them and to give himself time to think. "So...chuck the phone?" </p>
<p>"It's too late," Prompto sighed. "They'll have already tracked us to Hammerhead." </p>
<p>"Then we leave." </p>
<p>"And what then? Just keep running? It's fine for me, but I couldn't…. I could never ask you to do that." </p>
<p>Once again, the trailer fell into silence. Outside, Prompto focused on listening for the telltale sounds of footsteps, of engines overhead, anything that would have alerted him to signs of an attack. So far, he thought with only mild relief, they seemed to be in the clear. </p>
<p>"Alright," Gladio said suddenly, hopping off the edge of the bed and clapping his hands together with resolve. "You're a spy, right? An assassin? So let's do this like the movies. We make you disappear." </p>
<p>Blue eyes opened wider. </p>
<p>"I have a plan. Sort of. Just go with me on this one." </p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Imperial airships were not a rare sight in Leide. The lands neighbored the Lucian stronghold of Insomnia, and as such Niflheim soldiers were often sent to patrol them. But it had been some time since a ship had flown so close to Hammerhead, mostly on account of that time Cid Sophiar had blasted one right out of the sky with a homemade rocket launcher. </p>
<p>So when the magitek engines began to hum in the air above the garage lot, those few unlucky enough to be watching nearby were naturally drawn out by their curiosity. </p>
<p>Instead of passing by on routine patrol, however, the ship came to stop in midair, hovering in place as the boosters on its side glowed red. Nothing happened for a long moment. But then a hiss like an airlock, and the cargo bay hatch began to open on its own. </p>
<p>A man appeared there, small in stature even when viewed from the ground below. His bright yellow hair whipped around his face as he marched to the end of the ramp. In the palm of one hand, he held a beeping black device; its screen blinked red in the center, as if to mark a point on a map directly below. In his other hand, the handle of a prototype magitek blaster. </p>
<p>"This is the place!" the man shouted to some unseen pilot still inside the ship. "Hold us steady!"</p>
<p>A pause as he first pocketed the tracker, then shifted the barrel of the weapon up onto his shoulder to take aim. </p>
<p>Anyone watching down below was already running for safety before the first round fired. A shell struck the side of the camping trailer at the edge of the parking lot, knocking it easily onto its side with a creaking grown. The second shell hit the undercarriage, exactly at the point where Cid had installed its generator. It exploded instantly. The trailer was swallowed up in a ball of smoke and flames, while every inch of concrete within a ten-foot radius was scorched black and flecked with ash.</p>
<p>High above in his ship, Loqi Tummelt once again checked the screen of his tracking device. As expected. No more dots, no more beeping. Still, he had to be certain. </p>
<p>Through his military-issued binoculars, he scanned the burning rubble of the trailer for signs of life. There was a broken pipe, the scraps of a chair, some papers charred at the ends. And then…. Ah, just there. In the center of the debris, a piece of tattered clothing, blackened now with soot, but wholly unmistakable: Unit 05953234’s favorite vest. </p>
<p>Loqi smirked. The blast must have incinerated his body, but it was no matter. With this, his mission was complete, and his promotion within the Order all but secured. Now all that was left was to return to Zegnautus with the news and-- </p>
<p>"Ye damned fool!" </p>
<p>He snapped his gaze downward, where a lone figure was storming across the lot below from out of the garage. An old man by the looks of his white hair beneath a faded cap. But what really caught Loqi's attention was the odd hunk of scrap he carried between his arms. </p>
<p>"I sent ye punks runnin' before! But now ye done went and pissed me off!" </p>
<p>The old man raised the heap metal to his shoulder and braced himself with both legs. Too late, Loqi noticed the distinct shape of the weapon's barrel just as it was pointed directly at the belly of his ship.  </p>
<p>"I-it's Sophiar! Turn around! Go, go--!!" </p>
<p>A second explosion, much larger than that of the ruined trailer, filled the sky overhead. Sparks rained down where the main engine of the magitek ship had been blasted clear off. Someone - Loqi - screamed. Lines of thick, dark smoke painted a trail as the rest of the ship swerved, tilted, and was finally crashing down towards the earth. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Miles away in the cabin of the truck, Gladio and Prompto barely noticed the faint rumble of shockwaves rippling out. For a brief moment the radio crackled and faded - then it was back again just as quickly, the singer crooning on and on about a long lost chocobo and an old dirt road. </p>
<p>Prompto smiled warmly out of the window up at the sky. Clear, endless blue stretching as far as he could see in all directions, carrying the promise of freedom in place of clouds. Every spin of the tires took him further from a past that could no longer haunt him, and closer to a future he would finally be able to make his own. </p>
<p>A phone call a few miles back from Clarus himself had confirmed it: Drautos had been taken into custody by his own Glaives sometime in the night. They were still in the process of questioning him, but all orders he’d issued to hunt down Gladio and Prompto had been retracted since. Meaning, Clarus had explained, they were free to return to Insomnia - <em> both </em>of them. </p>
<p>Apparently they had Noctis to thank for that. As soon as the prince had heard of his friend’s sudden reappearance, he’d granted him full immunity - as well as an honorary Lucian citizenship - on the condition that he get his ass to the Citadel in person to accept. </p>
<p>All in all, Prompto didn’t think he could possibly be any happier with how his luck had turned around in the course of a single day. It was almost too perfect to be real. Then he felt Gladio’s hand reach down for his, large fingers sliding casually into place between his own, and his heart nearly burst from the joy of it all. </p>
<p>Forget his unit number. Forget the missions, the targets, the reports. Forget the Order and the Empire, too. There was only one thing those assholes had ever truly understood about him:</p>
<p>That ever since the day he’d met Gladiolus Amicitia, he’d been absolutely, positively, one-hundred percent compromised. </p>
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